


But Did You See the Gun?

by Effluvium



Category: Avengers: Endgame (2019), Avengers: Infinity War (2018), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 12:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19723366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effluvium/pseuds/Effluvium
Summary: FAR FROM HOME SPOILERS DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE FREAKIN MOVIEWhat kind of person shoots a kid?  Who pulls out a .22 and pulls the trigger, without a second thought?





	But Did You See the Gun?

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write about FFH for so long now ever since I've seen the movie but I can't come up with much ahgh.
> 
> This is a semi-fix-it for the mid-credit scene, but, y'know, the media is a hell-scape.

They’d fixed it, just barely.

_“The video released by Quentin Beck, AKA Mysterio, has been deemed another falsity. Hundreds of thousands of people have confirmed that…”_

Michelle and Ned had created these small, ant-sized robots that flew and recorded the entirety of Peter’s expedition. She’d attached them to his ankles, without him knowing, recording absolutely everything.

Everything.

_“Real footage, as confirmed by multiple witnesses, has been released to the public. Here, you’ll see Spider-Man fighting Mysterio somewhere in Berlin. Viewer discretion is advised, as some images may be disturbing.”_

Disturbing. _Disturbing_ , as if it was just audio of gunshots in the distance, or someone getting thrown off a bull in a rodeo, with a horribly broken arm. As if it wasn’t a recording of his worst nightmares, and of him getting hit by a bullet train.

_“Are we really going to still call him Spider-Man? What about who he actually is, Peter Parker?”_

No one looked at him the same, after it all; Pepper and her associates had tried to erase his name from the internet, had bribed the press into secrecy, but it wasn’t enough. Every glance was one of pity, and he wasn’t Peter Parker anymore; he was Spider-Man, the kid who got hit by a bullet train, and almost by an actual bullet.

_“This footage is insane -- he dodges and whips around, smashing all those drones. Absolutely incredible.”_

_“But did you see the gun?”_

“Peter, I…” Michelle had sat down with him, after the footage had gone live. “I’m sorry, for what you went through. I can’t believe he almost… he almost just…”

_Shot you._

He didn’t answer, but he wanted her to be sorry for sticking the cameras on him in the first place. She needed to be sorry for looking at that footage beforehand, for not telling him about it.

It still replayed in his head, that critical moment on the bridge; his sense had burst from his right side just in time, but it was also in the way the illusion was holding the glasses, like the gun in reality. And it’s _horrifying_ , because who shoots a kid? Even after he found out about Beck, he still seemed to be somewhat sorry for everything he’d done. But…

But then he just pulled out the .22, without a second thought.

“Dude, you almost _died_ ,” Ned was ecstatic, and that wasn’t the right response, either. “How’re you just okay? I mean, you nearly had a _bullet_ in your skull --”

Flash choked on his drink; he was a table away, with a tired look in his eyes. Everytime he made eye contact with Peter, he seemed to have to look away, or to blink dust aggressively out of his eyes.

Michelle was in front of him, and she seemed to have a wary look about her, right before she asked, “What about Homecoming? What happened there?”

And honestly, even Ned hadn’t thought to ask. His healing factor kicked in so quick and so efficiently that the most pressing injury he had that Monday after the dance was a bruise on his hip. It’d been assumed that he’d just apprehended the culprit, the Vulture, and made it free without a scratch.

“He dropped a building on me.” And Peter wasn’t loud in his words, but the few tables around him quieted; people were listening to his every word, and it was awfully horrific. Ned blinked slowly, rubbing his face, whispering _dude, how’re you just okay_ , and Michelle sat down, as if to steady herself.

_“Yeah, that was… that was crazy. He almost died, but just like that, he blocked it! Absolutely insane.”_

He was being treated like some theatrical play. The news was ruthless, unconcerned with his brushes with death, and instead chose to talk about how great his fighting looked.

“And what about on Titan?” Ned was hesitant with this one, looking at him from the bottom bunk. “What was that like?”

“It sucked, Ned.” Peter sighed, exasperated. “I accidentally went into space, had to save Strange from being tortured, crashed a spaceship, fought Thanos, and then he got the stone and we all died anyway.”

_And I died anyway. For nothing._

_But did you see the gun?_

“And then,” he laughs, leaning against the blue wall, “I wake up, five years of my life wasted, on the same awful, foreign planet I died on. I battled again, almost died a few times, and we _won_ , finally.”

_But did you see the gun? The gun that killed Tony Stark?_

_It was self-sacrifice._

_It was painted red._

Michelle gulped. “I’m sorry, Peter.”

“Do you know how good it felt, to rest after that? Best night of sleep I’ve ever had; no nightmares, no interruptions, nothing -- but then I woke up, and I was back, and I was _lost_ , okay?”

_He’s still dead. It wasn’t just a dream._

_I’m five years behind my life._

_I’m lost._

“And now, months later, everyone knows,” he bit his lip, gritted his teeth, “and I just don’t get a break. Some guy played with my mind, threw me on some train tracks to die, and when _that_ didn’t work, took a .22 and tried it again, and it _hurt_ , the sound, in my ear? That blast, I swear I went deaf for a few seconds, and I just --”

_“But did you see the gun? He almost died, Spider-Man was almost no more.”_

Peter sighed, a breath escaping him. It was one he’d been holding for so long. “It’s just crazy how it can all end, y’know? And you never see it coming, and now I’ve dodged it again but it isn’t _good_ enough, because everyone knows who I _am_ and it’s God awful and I hate it, okay?”

_“Hey, Pete, you alright bud?”_

“Mr. Delmar,” an angry, hot breath, “he doesn’t just talk to me anymore. Now I’m Spider-Man, someone who almost died, and is constantly hurt. We can’t just talk about our families, now it’s _Peter, did you get enough sleep?_ ”

_“Peter, you okay after that fire last night?”_

_“Pete, that gunman didn’t hit you, did he?”_

_“Pete, you got that gash dressed and cleaned, right?”_

“And I’m tired of it. I want my identity back, guys; I’m sick of being pitied. I’d rather Flash berate me about how wimpy I am than stare at me as if I’d hurt him any minute of the day.”

“We’re here for you, Peter.” Michelle laid a thin, bony hand on his calloused fingers, looking him harshly in the eye. “I know that’s not much, and it isn’t going to reverse any of this, but if you need us, we’re here.”

_“But did you see the gun? The .22? Did you see the shot go through the window behind him? Incredible, those reflexes.”_

There was one news anchor; a woman, with red hair and grey eyes and a face full of freckles. She’d looked at her co-host, and something flashed in those orbs that seemed incredibly out of place in the world.

_“He almost died. He was hit by a train, shot at by drones, and milliseconds away from being executed. Why’re we fantasizing this? This violence? We ought to leave him alone, give him some peace. Only God knows what else he’s gone through.”_


End file.
